


If I were a Blackbird

by DalekLetoEndeavour



Series: Que sera, sera- Sidney and Robert [1]
Category: Grantchester (TV), The Grantchester Mysteries - James Runcie
Genre: Healing, M/M, Nature, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23312551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalekLetoEndeavour/pseuds/DalekLetoEndeavour
Summary: Sidneys facing the past on a walk on the river cam in the autumn breeze.Beginning of a series of  What if stories
Relationships: Sidney Chambers/Robert Kendall
Series: Que sera, sera- Sidney and Robert [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676482
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	If I were a Blackbird

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantine sucks big time but it's necessary when you're part of the unfortunate few who are on the viruses hit list òmó  
> So stay safe ♡
> 
> The song is Blackbird by Sam Lee
> 
> It's located some time after Sidneys ordination in Grantchester and the talk he and Amanda had or the last 4 pages of the book, no not acknowledgment pages xD

Autumn was at its peak. The trees had shed not yet all of their colourful descendants. Along the meadows the afternoon had stretched lazily and idle along the river Cam.  
He was healing. Finally.  
God had called him back to the start.  
Another time. Another life.  
They had been swinging ,as bare as Edens children, from a rope high abouve Byron's pool before embracing the chilly stream to let the river carry them. Robert had always won, cause Sidney let him have his triumph. Had loved his canny laugher and cheeky comments about lack of performance. It was to quiet here to be comfortable. The silence was tainted with an almost unearthly presence, so he moved on. Up the hill and across the fields, hoping to leave the past behind.

Sidney went to the fallen elm tree, thistle and weeds nibbling at his trousers and shoes soiled from the uncertain terrain.  
He had been here with Amanda not four months ago with talks about forgiveness and promises.  
No more regrets, they'd agreed upon.  
Sidney let his hands wander around the meadows growth. His hand cut on the spikes of a cardoon,claiming his blood. Lilac in its late bloom, ready to close for the evening.

A plant connoting bravery, courage, and loyalty in the face of treachery.  
One reason why Mary, Queen of Scots eternal place of rest had been covert in them.

Sidney closed his hand around the tough, painful spikes until it had been freed from his earthly foundation.  
They digged deep into the palm of his hands till velvet liquid stained the white hem of his shirt irreversibly.  
Uncomfortably aware of his own heart beat, he shut his eyes. Pain began to feast upon him before the darkness could claim him. Gasping he felt thrown back to the icy river. To nearly drowning if it hadn't been for Robert. Releasing the thistle of his tight grip he opend his eyes again.  
Just to see a crow settling down next to him. A glimmer of curiosity in it's pitch black eyes monitoring his very movements with the precision of a Swiss clockwork.

"Foretold me I'll remain, my fortune is high." Blinking away the lowering sun he tried to recall the correct lyrics of a song of old, he had heard a respective elderly woman sing on the graveyard everyday since he had arrived. No doubt she was one of his parishioners but never had made an appearances at an actual service. Nay, she was only loyal to the graves she attended to. Sidney hadn't had the chance to talk to her, since she seemed to dissapere into thin air the moment he had spotted her. Or her song had finished. She might as well have been a ghost. If one were to believe rumours Lord Byron could be seen swimming at full moon. But then again, every undergraduate in their birthday suit looks like Lord Byron. Taking him back to the countless time he and Robert had done something wicket likewise.

Words came back to him as he headed homeward. At first it was just humming but then he sung to himself the refrain.  
"For if I were a Blackbird, I'd whistle, I'd sing  
And I'd follow the ship my true love sailed in."  
The sun was in the gallows all gloomy red and orange, when he took a short cut over the graveyard.  
It was abandoned at this time of the day. Thankfully.  
Sidney picked up some pebbles and put them ontop of the stone of his predecessor.  
Whose name had been Robert too.  
Lots in thoughts he stroke over the engraved letters.  
Robert. Not my Robert. Mine wouldn't have had the serenity to be a vicar. He was the born politician. But then isn't that what Vicars do? So wouldn't he had been perfect for it? Surely his family would have disapproved of his career choice,possibly cast him out. But there was something about imagining his hearts dearest in his position, fiddling with the tight dog collar, which made him smile.

Who were you Vicar Robert? 

"There's none in the army come equal to it  
With his red rosy cheeks and his colly black eyes  
His flattering tongue goes my heart to a snack  
For some people's talking that I'm out of my mind."  
He spoke to the soft darkness wrapping their arms around him like a cosy blanket.  
And with the last beams of sun shine which illuminated the gate of the graveyard he made out a figure.


End file.
